


Looking For Trouble

by 27dragons



Category: Marvel (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Anal Fingering, Internalized Homophobia, M/M, Pining, Prostitution, Public Blow Jobs, Skinny Steve
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-08-21
Updated: 2014-08-21
Packaged: 2018-02-14 04:39:55
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,991
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2178267
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/27dragons/pseuds/27dragons
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>When they can't make rent, Bucky sometimes resorts to drastic measures to make up the difference. He's a pretty tough guy; he can handle it. Right up until he finds out how Steve has been making <em>his</em> share of the rent.</p><p>(This is nothing but porn and feels. Mostly porn. You're welcome.)</p>
            </blockquote>





	Looking For Trouble

**Author's Note:**

> Collective cursing and gratitude to ZombieOnAVespa and [sara_holmes](http://archiveofourown.org/users/sara_holmes/). _They know what they did._

Bucky looked down at the cookie jar and firmly told the queasy roll in his stomach to take a hike. It was the last day of the month; there was no putting this off any longer.

It'll be enough, he told himself. He'd worked at least two extra shifts every week this month, and they'd only gone out the twice. And Steve had done that sign-painting job for the greengrocer.

Bucky took a deep breath. Before his stomach could flip and roll again, he took the lid off the jar and upended it on the kitchen table.

A quarter _ting_ ed and rolled for the edge of the table. Bucky snatched at it frantically, cursing. A couple of months back he'd lost a dime to a crack in the floor, and Christ, they could eat a whole meal on a quarter, if they were careful.

 _It'll be enough._ Heart in his throat, Bucky smoothed out the bills and stacked the coins, counting carefully. _It's got to be enough._

It wasn't enough. Bucky chewed on his lip and counted again, sure he'd made a mistake--

He hadn't made a mistake. They were short. They were short by at least three shifts' pay. Bucky looked at the calendar hanging on its nail, hoping there was more time, already knowing there wasn't.

Where the hell had the money gone? He thought he'd figured it so carefully when he'd put in for those extra shifts. There had even been extra, to cover the doctor and the druggist when Steve inevitably got sick. Bucky wiped suddenly-sweaty palms on his pants, and then grimaced.

The pants. He'd snagged his work pants on a nail and ripped them beyond all repair, and he'd had to go and buy new ones. Goddammit. He hadn't budgeted for clothes this month, not at all, and Steve had been sicker than usual, and... "God _dammit_!"

Two months, Bucky had managed to go _two whole months_ without having to opt for the last resort. Bucky drew a deep breath and tried to calm the riot of his stomach. Hell. Well, nothing else for it, was there? Bucky swallowed his pride along with his bile and put the money back in the cookie jar before he went out to the bathroom to clean up.

At least Steve had gone down to the park to draw and so he wasn't home to ask awkward questions, like what Bucky was getting all dolled up for, and when he'd be home, and (not often, but often enough to make Bucky cringe to think about it) whether Steve couldn't come along, too?

Bucky grimaced and tucked a flat pomade tin into his pocket (he'd used up the pomade a few months back and refilled the tin with Vaseline) and made sure his shirt was clean, and then headed out into the evening.

Thing was, Bucky was a part-timer. He mostly only came out at the end of the month, on months it looked like they weren't going to make rent. And that was okay with the regulars -- most of the factories paid out just before the end of the month, so there was more work than the regulars could handle on their own anyway -- but it did mean that Bucky didn't have a spot of his own. He had to cruise the alleys until he'd found one that was empty. Sometimes he got lucky, but mostly, it meant he wound up deep down into the rougher parts of town.

That was okay. Years of having to back Steve's crazy plays meant that Bucky was one tough son of a bitch. He could take what the joes wanted to dish, if they paid for it, or he was fast and hard enough to fight back, if anyone thought that being a rentboy automatically made him easy prey.

Bucky shoved his hands in his pockets and slouched along the usual route, peering into the alleys and back streets as he went, but sure enough, they were already full. He'd gone the best part of a mile and was already smelling the docks when a voice hailed him out of the shadows.

"What'cha doin', boy?"

Bucky slowed, stopped.

Pretty Ike was leaning against the wall, both shoulders sloped against the brick like he thought he was holding the place up. He had a bruise just beginning to darken on his ugly face and blood on his knuckles, which meant he'd been fighting and was now in the mood for fucking.

Bucky changed direction, sauntering over. Bucky'd done Ike before. Ike could be rough, but he paid well. "You know me, I'm lookin' for trouble," Bucky drawled, letting his eyes spark against Ike's. "Got any trouble for me?"

"Might do, at that," Ike said. "Found a spot for the night yet?"

"Not yet," Bucky admitted. "Busy night."

Ike grinned, which did nothing to make his face any prettier. "Come on, then, we'll cut east a few blocks."

"Bit out of my usual way."

"Came in that way," Ike said. "It was pretty quiet." He slung an arm around Bucky's shoulders and pulled him along, and Bucky tolerated it.

"What kinda trouble you lookin' for?" Ike asked as they walked.

Bucky shrugged. "Makin' rent kind of trouble," he muttered. Ike wasn't the sort who needed Bucky to pretend to like him.

Ike grunted. "You in trouble enough to bend over and take it?"

Bucky chewed his lip, calculating how short they were and how sore he was willing to be. "Okay."

Ike nodded, then paused and peered down a dark street. Way down at the end, a man was leaning back on the wall, a shape on its knees in front of him, head bobbing. Bucky shrugged and was about to move on, but Ike reeled him back in. "Hold up," he said. "Got me an idea."

Bucky growled a little. "Ain't splittin' the fee, Ike. Gotta make that rent, still."

Ike waved carelessly. "Wouldn't think of it."

Like hell Ike wouldn't think of it, but he hadn't yet promised and then not paid, so he must be pretty flush tonight. Bucky reminded himself he didn't want to know where Ike's money came from.

"They look about done," Ike said, and pulled Bucky down the street.

It wasn't until they were most of the way down that Bucky got a good look at the guy on his knees, and then his blood ran cold.

Fucking hell, that was _Steve_.

Bucky stumbled to a halt, staring.

Steve's joe reached down and made a fist in Steve's hair, holding his head still so he could piston his hips faster, harder, fucking roughly into Steve's throat.

Part of Bucky wanted to stamp over there and grab Steve, shake him 'til his eyes rattled and demand to know what the _fuck_ he was thinking, taking on _this_ kind of work, with _this_ kind of joe, in _this_ part of town. Didn't he know how goddamn _dangerous_ this was? Jesus _Christ_.

Another part of him wanted to yank that joe halfway back to the Bridge and beat him to within an inch of his life for being so rough with Steve. The boy was practically made of porcelain, you had to handle him gentle, even if what came out of his damn mouth was tough enough for any three of Bucky.

(Another part of him wanted to push the joe aside and take his place, show him how to do it right, run his thumbs soft over the sharp planes of Steve's jaw, sliding slick across Steve's tongue, feel those teeth scrape right down the top of Bucky's prick, right on the edge of pain... Bucky shoved that thought aside, because Bucky wasn't no joe, and Steve wasn't no fairy.)

Steve didn't seem bothered by the rough treatment, though; he tipped his chin as much as the hand in his hair would allow and bowed his back a little and just _took it_ , and even as pissed off as Bucky was, at Steve and at the joe and at himself, he had to admire the bulge and flex of Steve's throat, the easy way he was swallowing everything the joe gave him.

"Precious little thing, ain't he?" Ike murmured. "That mouth is worth a little extra trouble of lookin' around to see if he's workin', any given night." Bucky barely managed to restrain himself from punching Ike right on top of that shiner that was already raising on his cheek.

Steve's joe was turning red, about to come, but Steve must've heard Ike's chatter, because he opened his eyes, wary.

He spotted Bucky, and his eyes widened comically.

The joe started grunting, and Steve's eyes closed again as he swallowed.

Bucky curled his hands into fists at his side and reminded himself that they _needed the goddamn money_ and he couldn't afford to smash this guy's face in, or tell Ike to fuck off, or to grab Steve by his skinny punk-ass arm and drag him the hell back home.

As soon as the joe finished shooting, Steve was pulling back, shoving the guy's hand off his head and climbing to his feet. He shot a look at Bucky, but didn't meet his eyes, just a quick glance, and then he turned back to the joe and held out his hand expectantly.

The joe wasn't looking at any of them directly, which was business as usual. He yanked up his pants and did 'em up, then pulled a handful of cash out and stuffed it into Steve's waiting hand. He might have glanced sidelong at Ike and Bucky, but he didn't take long about it if he did; he just beat feet in the opposite direction, getting the hell out.

Like Bucky wished he could do.

Sort of.

Steve took his time straightening out the cash and putting it away, and Bucky was pretty sure that was so he wouldn't have to look at Bucky.

"Need to make a little more?" Ike asked.

"No," Bucky said, just as Steve said, "Who doesn't?"

Ike looked at Bucky. "You backing out?"

Bucky ground his teeth. "No." Backing out now would piss Ike off, and Ike would spread the word. Bucky couldn't afford that.

Ike nodded, cocked his head back at Steve. "How about it?"

Bucky glared at Steve. _Say no, goddammit_.

Steve did not read Bucky's mind. Or even look at him. "What's the game?"

Jesus fucking _Christ_.

Ike grinned, jerked his thumb at Bucky. "This one's gonna bend over for it. You're gonna get him ready, and then suck him off while I do it."

Bucky's knees felt weak, and he wasn't sure if his face was red or white, suddenly. _Say no, goddammit, and go the fuck_ _ **home**_.

Steve looked at Bucky directly, then, appraising, his chin jutting out stubbornly, and Bucky knew he wasn't going to say no.

"Yeah, all right," Steve said, still looking at Bucky.

Bucky closed his eyes and concentrated on trying to keep the cursing behind his teeth. He had dreamed of having Steve's hands and mouth on him, _literally_ dreamed it, and daydreamed it as well, letting his mind roam anytime he had a minute or two free. And Bucky had been perfectly content to keep it that way, because Steve was not a goddamn fairy (that Steve was in this alley was no proof, plenty of guys had done this and worse to keep food on the table, it didn't mean it was what they _wanted_ , just what they _did_ ). But none of Bucky's fantasies had ever involved another person, or money changing hands. And worse, he was pretty sure he wouldn't be able to hide his feelings from Steve like this, not once Steve was in him, on him. Around him.

God.

Maybe, _maybe_ , if Bucky could just keep his goddamn mouth shut, keep himself quiet...

Bucky had never been able to keep quiet for sex of any sort.

He was _so fucked_. And he hadn't even been paid yet.

A loud scrape and thump made him open his eyes. Ike had pulled a crate off a stack, and was sitting on it, his mouth twisted into a leering smirk. "Get on with it, then."

Bucky drew a deep breath and shrugged out of his suspenders, started to unbuckle his belt.

Steve's hands stopped him. "Let me do it," he said, so quiet that Ike probably couldn't hear.

Bucky swallowed hard for what felt like the tenth time in the last minute. "Why?"

Steve didn't look up at him, just pushed Bucky's hands out of the way and started in. "Joes get a kick out of seeing the little guy take charge."

"Steve, you don't--"

"Shut up," Steve hissed. "Just-- Not now, Buck, okay?" He unbuttoned and unzipped Bucky's trousers with jerky, angry movements. "Just do the damn job." Louder, for Ike more than Bucky, he said, "Turn around and put your hands on the wall."

"What are you, the cops?" Bucky let Ike hear that, too. All part of the show.

Steve shoved Bucky around to face the wall. "You wish I was that nice." Bucky put his palms flat on the wall, and before he'd entirely found his balance, Steve was kicking his ankles apart and then pressing up against him, Steve's lean, bony body pressing against Bucky's back and legs, hot breath curling between Bucky's shoulder blades as that sharp chin dug in.

Bucky shivered. It was on the verge of familiar -- God knew they'd curled together often enough to share heat during the winter or when Steve was sick enough to have a chill -- but it was alien, too, because it was almost always Bucky on the outside, trying to force his warmth into Steve's scrawny limbs. The same-but-not sensation was so overpowering that he almost didn't hear it when Steve dropped his voice again. "Tell me you got slick and I'm not having to do this with nothing but spit."

"Right pocket," Bucky said, and _Jesus_ , just the feel of Steve's narrow fingers forcing themselves into Bucky's pocket was... Bucky dropped his head, because Ike was paying for a show, but there was no way Bucky was gonna let Ike see what his face looked like when Steve touched him. Not when _Steve_ hadn't seen it. Not when Steve didn't know.

Not ever.

Steve straightened up, and Bucky tried not to lean back in search of the lost warmth. Faint scrape of the pomade can opening, and Steve snorted with amusement. "Only you," he grunted. It had gotten to where the smell of Vaseline made Bucky's cock take notice, and Bucky turned his face against his arm and hoped it was dark enough that Steve wouldn't spot the flush crawling down the back of Bucky's neck.

One-handed, Steve shoved Bucky's pants and drawers as far down as the spread of his legs would allow. Everything in Bucky drew tight with anticipation. God, he'd never wanted this so bad, and he couldn't even _say_.

Steve's hand was on his hip, pulling, forcing Bucky to stick his ass out further. Bucky grunted and walked his hands down the wall a little further. "Good, just like that," Steve hummed, and Bucky's skin tingled when Steve's hand came to rest in the small of his back.

 _Don't_ , he wanted to say, _don't pretend this is something you want_. Bucky clenched his teeth around the words. It was going to hurt, and Bucky was damn well going to cherish the pain.

It wasn't tender or slow when Steve's finger breached him, and Bucky was grateful for that, at least. He drew a hard breath and shut his eyes tight. "Relax," Steve breathed. "Gotta relax and let me in, baby."

Fucking _Christ_. Bucky's whole body shuddered at the endearment, and Steve slid further in. "Yeah, perfect," Steve whispered. "So tight and hot," he murmured, and it was quiet, too quiet for Ike to hear. Christ, Bucky realized, these words weren't part of the show. They were for Bucky and Bucky alone.

Bucky bit his lip hard, then shivered through another breath. "Stevie, Jesus, don't, don't say stuff like--"

"Shut up," Steve said, but it wasn't angry now; it was soft and almost affectionate. "You stupid jerk. Just shut up."

And maybe it was better if Bucky did just shut up and let Steve run this show, because God knew Bucky couldn't string two thoughts together in a line right now, not with Steve's finger pumping in and out of him like that.

"More," Bucky said. "Gimme 'nother."

"Already?"

Bucky nodded. "Yeah, yeah, now, _now_." He was tough, and Ike wasn't gonna wait all night. Besides, Steve's fingers were long but so skinny, two of his weren't much bigger than one of anyone else's.

Steve pulled out for another dollop of Vaseline and then was back with two, and Jesus but that felt _good_. Bucky groaned and pushed back into it.

"God," Steve stuttered. "Damn, you're so..." He sounded breathless, and Bucky worried for an instant that he was having one of his attacks, but his lungs weren't whistling, so Bucky bit the inside of his cheek and didn't ask.

Steve pushed his fingers in harder, deeper, and a soft whimper escaped from Bucky's throat. "Yeah," he groaned, "like that, keep going, just like that."

"Yeah, baby," Steve murmured, twisting and stretching him. "I've got you. You're doing so good, so good for me."

Bucky shivered, the sweet words and praise settling uneasily on his ears.

The soft clink of a buckle and the rasp of a zipper sounded, too loud in the quiet shadows, and Steve jumped as if he'd forgotten Ike was there. "Three now," Bucky said, low and urgent. He wasn't quite ready for it yet, but if Ike was unzipping then there wasn't time to be delicate.

Steve didn't argue it -- he obviously knew what was what, just as well as Bucky did -- but the hand he'd been resting on Bucky's back flinched a little.

Three burned, more than a little, but Bucky'd had worse, and this was _Steve_. He'd suffered a hell of a lot worse for Steve's sake. So Bucky rocked back into it, willing himself to loosen, to take those gently flexing fingers deeper.

"Stop that," Steve said, voice tight. "You'll hurt yourself. Let me do it."

"Get on with it, then," Bucky grumbled. "Jesus."

Steve huffed but started moving his hand again. "Ain't gonna hurt you, Buck," he said stubbornly. "Not for any amount of money under the sun."

Bucky grunted. "Rather it be you than him."

That crossed a line. Steve sucked air. "Fine, dammit," he snapped. He pushed viciously, and that _did_ hurt, a bit. Then Steve twisted his wrist, sliding those long fingers right up against Bucky's prostate.

Bucky's cock, long-since gone hard, jumped and leaked, and Bucky whimpered.

Steve faltered -- the irritable little jerk would lash out at Bucky as quick as he would at anyone else, but he couldn't ever _stay_ mad at Bucky. "Shit, shit, Buck, I'm sorry, I--"

"Shut up and do that again," Bucky groaned. "Jesus, that's good."

Steve hesitated. "Yeah?"

"Hell, yeah," Bucky sighed. "C'mon, punk, give it to me good."

Steve actually chuckled a little as he twisted his wrist again. "I am _not_ the punk in this situation."

And _Christ_ , now Bucky was imagining giving it to Steve, that knobby little body under Bucky's hands, squirming helplessly at Bucky's touch. Bucky would take his time, make it good for Steve, make it so damn good... He shuddered. Steve wasn't like that, he reminded himself. He needed to get his fantasies under control, or Steve was gonna guess that this was maybe more than just a job to Bucky.

But thinking about it had helped Bucky relax around Steve's fingers, and Steve was fucking them into him good and proper now, bumping Bucky's prostate every second or third thrust, leaning in close and whispering to him again. "God, you're so good, baby, so good. I could keep this up all night, you look so desperate. You're so damn beautiful, baby."

And God, Bucky knew it didn't mean anything, that it was just sweet talk to keep Bucky riled, but he wanted it, wanted it so bad. "Stevie," he whined, "Steve, I need. I need--"

"Shh, baby, I've got you."

"All right, boys, that'll do," Ike drawled, and the crate thumped as he stood up.

***

Bucky kept his face to the wall while he fastened his pants and pulled up his suspenders, but Steve was still there when he turned back around, leaning one hip casually against the wall while he counted out his money, studiously not looking at Bucky.

Steve's mouth had been exactly as sweet as Ike had implied. Bucky had shot his load before Ike was even half done and Steve had swallowed it down as easy as a gulp of hot, bitter coffee in the morning. Then he'd stayed right where he was, on his knees, leaning his forehead against Bucky's thigh, his hands wrapped low around Bucky's hips, thumbs tracing circles on Bucky's skin until Ike had finished.

Ike actually met Bucky's eyes and smirked as he handed over Bucky's share of the money. Bucky had enough practice at pretending to be shameless that he just smiled and lifted his chin, cool as you please. He checked the amount, nodded, and stuffed the bills haphazardly into his pocket, then watched until Ike had swaggered all the way down the street and around the corner.

It was quiet then, for a moment, and Bucky felt the racing of his heart, poking at the edge of his shame and his fears until they began to crystalize again into bracing anger.

Behind him, Steve drew a deep breath. "Buck--"

"No," Bucky said shortly. "We're going home now."

He turned in time to see Steve's look of uncertainty, just for an instant, before it morphed into something hard and -- of course -- stubborn. "Can't. Haven't made my share of the rent yet."

"No," Bucky repeated. He grabbed Steve's arm -- not hard enough to bruise, because it was still Steve, and Bucky would cut off his own hand before he hurt Steve -- but firm enough to let Steve know he wasn't planning on letting go, either. "We're going home, and then we're gonna have us some goddamn _words_ , Rogers."

Steve tugged against Bucky's hand a little, as if he was thinking about fighting Bucky on it, but then he looked up and met Bucky's eyes, just for a second, and whatever he saw there defeated him. He looked away and his shoulders slumped even more than usual. He shoved his hands in his pockets with a shrug. "Yeah, okay."

They walked in silence. Bucky let go of Steve's arm after half a block because he was too steamed to have any patience with matching their steps. Especially since Steve was running hot-and-cold, taking big long angry strides and then switching to a sullen shuffle. Bucky folded his arms across his chest and kept pace, silently letting Steve know that he wasn't going anywhere and there wasn't any getting out of it.

Bucky made Steve go up the steps first, made Steve go through the door ahead of him. He carefully closed the door, made sure it wasn't stuck on the warped frame, and then just as carefully locked it and pulled the chain before turning to face Steve.

Steve was standing in the middle of the room, skinny shoulders as square as they ever got, that damn chin still jutting stubbornly as if daring someone to punch it. God knew sometimes Bucky was tempted. "How long," Bucky said slowly, trying for calm, "have you been doing this stupid shit?"

"How is it 'stupid shit' for me but fine for you?" Steve snapped, not having any truck at all with trying to keep the discussion reasonable or calm.

"You idiot, you're gonna get yourself beat to death, or worse!" Bucky returned.

"Nothing bad's happened to me yet," Steve said.

"Well, it ain't _gonna_ ," Bucky said, "'cause you ain't doing this no more."

"Says who?"

"Says _me_ , you dumb punk!" Bucky grabbed Steve's shoulders, shaking him. "No more, Steve, you gotta promise me."

"Don't be so stupid," Steve said, glaring. "We need that money."

"I'll make up the slack, if I have to," Bucky said. "I can't have you doing this. I just can't."

"Dammit, Buck, I've gotta pull my own weight _somehow_ ," Steve said. He flushed, but that was as much shame as it was anger twisting his mouth. "All our damn money goes to doctors and medicine for _me_ , and then I'm too damn sick to hold a proper job. What else am I supposed to do, Buck? I've got to do _something_ to lift some of the burden off you."

"Christ, Steve," Bucky breathed. "You're not a _burden_ , you're my best goddamn _friend_."

Steve snorted and pulled out of Bucky's grip, turning away. "Some friend," he said bitterly. "You'd be better off--"

"Don't you fucking even," Bucky snarled. "Don't you _dare_. Everything we've been through?"

Bucky grabbed Steve's shoulder to turn him around again, but Steve spun around and smacked Bucky's hand off, his eyes red and wet, sparking with something that was both furious and fearful. "Everything I've _put you through_ , you mean," he snapped. "And now you want me to give up earnin', too? Let you take it all on? _Why?_ Why would you do that? I'm not worth it, Buck. I ain't... I ain't so good as you think." Steve's lips pressed together tightly, as if he were -- for once in his goddamned life -- censoring himself.

Bucky felt like Steve had punched him right in the throat. "How can you-- You're worth it, Steve. Jesus. Of course you're worth it. You're worth _everything_ t'me, you got that? The hell are you even talking about, not good?"

Steve flushed brighter and shook his head. His arms wrapped around his hollow chest and he stared at the floor. "I ain't-- It's not--" He heaved a huge sigh. "God. Why's it so important to you, anyway? It's not like... It's just a few suck jobs now and then."

Bucky shuddered. "I can't-- Stevie, I just, I just can't have anyone else putting their hands on you, okay?"

Steve was quiet for a long minute, and when he looked up at Bucky again, the light in his eyes was calculating, almost suspicious. "Anyone _else_?"

Shit, was that what he'd said? Bucky squeezed his eyes shut. "Well, Christ, Steve, if you hadn't figured it out by now, you're dumber'n a box of rocks. Don't worry, I ain't gonna--"

"But you like _girls_ , Buck." Steve sounded dizzy.

Bucky snorted. "'Course I do. I like going out on dates, dancing and stuff. And making time with a pretty girl sure is fun." Bucky's heart was pounding half out of his chest, but the cat was already out of the bag. Might as well take it all the way. "But I've never had a girl I wanted to come home to, not half as much as I like coming home to you." He swallowed, the last of his anger evaporating and leaving a sour, metallic tang on the back of his tongue. "Sorry."

"Yeah? Sorry 'bout what?"

 _Pugnacious little shit_ , Bucky thought, but at least Steve hadn't out-and-out decked him. "For... for making things strange. Didn't mean to ever tell you. Swear t'God, I meant to keep it behind my damn teeth. You can just... pretend you never knew, and I'll--"

"Dunno why I'd want to do that," Steve said, and his voice was so close, all of a sudden, that Bucky's eyes flew open in surprise.

Steve had moved, quiet as a cat. He was right up next to Bucky now, his head craned back to study Bucky's face. Steve's own expression was cautious and thoughtful.

"Steve..."

"You really weren't ever going to tell me?"

"Of course not," Bucky said, staring. "What kind of--"

Steve stretched up onto his tiptoes and kissed Bucky.

It was kind of a terrible kiss. Steve's lips were dry and his mouth tasted of old come and he apparently had no idea at all what to do with his tongue.

Bucky let out a helpless whimper and surrendered to it utterly, one arm holding Steve close and the other hand cradling Steve's head, and didn't let go until Steve pulled away, panting for air.

Bucky's thoughts roiled. He licked his lips and said, "Who the hell taught you to kiss?"

"No one," Steve said. His eyes were on Bucky's mouth.

"What does that mean, no one?"

Steve flushed. "Means I never kissed anyone before."

Bucky blinked, and then grinned. "You've been selling back alley suck jobs for God knows how long--"

"About a year," Steve put in.

"--for a year, but you managed to save your first kiss for _me_?"

Steve stuck out his chin, just a little. "Looks that way. Stupid jerk."

"What-- How am I the stupid one?" Bucky resettled his hands on Steve's waist and began pulling him back toward the sofa.

"Because you were never going to tell me!" Steve said.

"And apparently you were never gonna tell me, either!" Bucky sat on the sofa and tugged Steve down onto his lap.

Steve came willingly, tucking his knees on either side of Bucky's hips to sit on Bucky's thighs. Steve's ass was bony and uncomfortable, like most of the rest of him, and Bucky loved it. It made everything feel more real. "You like _girls_ ," Steve protested. "What was I supposed to think?"

"Shut up and kiss me again."

Steve's hands tangled in Bucky's hair and his eyes went soft as he leaned in close. "Gonna teach me how to do it right, baby?"

"Long as you promise not to go looking for trouble no more."

"Mm," Steve hummed. "Probably got all the trouble I need right here at home."

**Author's Note:**

> Come throw your weird headcanons at me on [tumblr](http://everyworldneedslove.tumblr.com/) and maybe I'll end up getting infected with more of these!


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